


Sunshine

by Heather_Night



Category: Animal Kingdom (TV), Last House on the Left (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 06:16:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17136530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather_Night/pseuds/Heather_Night
Summary: Living with Adrian in the beachfront home was not what Deran had imagined.  It wasn’t better, or worse than he’d imagined…it was just different.Like how had he missed how messy Adrian was?  He’d leave a trail of clothing and other detritus behind him as he moved from room to room as if leaving a trail of breadcrumbs.  Sure, he picked up his shit when prompted but Deran wasn’t his mother, he shouldn’t have to remind him all the damned time.But there were good things, too.  He’d discovered Adrian had a surprising nice voice; he sometimes sang in the shower but only if he didn’t think Deran was around.





	Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> I've slowly been making my way through Spencer Treat Clark's movie catalog and there was something about Last House on the Left that stuck with me; I think it was the redemptive arc Justin Stillo's character went through that caught my attention. You'll need to ignore what little history you've learned about Adrian because this is a re-write incorporating history from LHOTL and Justin's character. The good news is you don't need to see that movie to follow the action here, at least if I did this right. Italicized lines are direct quotes from LHOTL.
> 
> Please see the end notes if you want to know who dies in the story. I promise you it's not either of our blue eyed boys.
> 
> If I need to add tags please let me know.

Sunshine

 

_And I have never been afraid of losing_  
_And I have never wanted love to be a chain_  
_I only know that when I'm with you_  
_You're my sunshine, you're my rain_  
_The sweetest thing I've ever known is loving you_

\- _The Sweetest Thing (I've Ever Known)_ by Robert O Young

 

Living with Adrian in the beachfront home was not what Deran had imagined. It wasn’t better, or worse than he’d imagined…it was just different.

Like how had he missed how messy Adrian was? He’d leave a trail of clothing and other detritus behind him as he moved from room to room as if leaving a trail of breadcrumbs. Sure, he picked up his shit when prompted but Deran wasn’t his mother, he shouldn’t have to remind him all the damned time.

But there were good things, too. He’d discovered Adrian had a surprising nice voice; he sometimes sang in the shower but only if he didn’t think Deran was around.

Deran Googled the lyrics he’d caught from Adrian’s impromptu session this morning. 

Craig plonked down on a bar stool in front of him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to track down a song I heard this morning.” He tapped in the words he remembered. The words themselves were somewhat upbeat but when Adrian sang them, they were almost mournful.

“They have apps for that you know.” Craig tossed some of the bar nuts sitting in a bowl next to him into his mouth, chewing noisily.

Deran ignored his brother.

Huh. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting. It was some country-pop hit from the 80’s by something called Juice Newton. 

_And I have never been afraid of losing_  
_And I have never wanted love to be a chain_  
_I only know that when I'm with you_  
_You're my sunshine, you're my rain_  
_The sweetest thing I've ever known is loving you_

He hit the link to YouTube and yeah…cheesy 80s music. He liked Adrian’s version much, much better.

“What the fuck is that?” Craig demanded.

He didn’t have a chance to answer as Adrian swept up to the bar. He leaned over the wood surface and planted a quick kiss on Deran’s lips. “I’m heading out to class. Do you need me to pick anything up at the store on my way back?”

Craig chortled. “You two are sickening domestic.”

Adrian turned and raised an eyebrow at Craig. “Hi, Craig. Nice to see you, too.” He turned back to Deran. “So, need anything?”

“Well, I’d kind of like to know why you were singing,” he peered at his iPhone again, “a Juice Newton song this morning in the shower.”

A pretty pink color rolled across Adrian’s high cheekbones. In the last six months any puppy fat that had lingered had melted away leaving an even more, startling, attractive Adrian in its wake. 

His boyfriend was burning like the sun hot.

Behind the embarrassment of being busted for singing again, Adrian looked confused. “Who?”

Deran hit the replay button on his phone and the singer warbled the chorus while Craig groaned.

Adrian gave a long, slow blink and steadied himself on the bar top with his hands. The pink receded leaving a scary pale white shade in its place. 

He reached across the bar and touched the top of Adrian’s hand. “Adrian?”

With another long, slow blink Adrian shook his head. “I was not singing that.” He sounded horrified now.

Deran peered more closely at Adrian’s face. At his eyes. They were wide and dark. Spooked looking. “Yeah, you really were.” At this point he wasn’t trying to start an argument; he was trying to figure out what the hell was going on here.

“Fuck you.” The words lacked heat but it at least was an Adrian-type response. Adrian’s cell phone beeped an alarm. “I’ve got to get going or I’ll be late for class. Text me if you want me to pick something up. Bye.”

Hurricane Adrian swept out of the bar as quickly as he’d swept in. 

“Weird.” Craig threw another mouthful of nuts into his mouth.

Succinct but accurate.

A blond chick—too thin but athletic looking—moved up to the bar and stood next to Craig. “Excuse me, do you know the guy who just left?”

Craig snorted. Deran didn’t find it as funny as his brother did but it was amusing how the ladies fawned and chased after Adrian. His boyfriend didn’t see it and although he was always polite Deran could see he wasn’t interested in their attentions.

He was afraid he was going to have to burst her bubble. “No, I’m afraid not. Can I get you anything?”

She looked over her shoulder, at the door Adrian had departed through, before turning back. “Are you sure? That looks like Justin. We were close when he lived out east.”

Craig decided to join the conversation. “Nah, that’s Adrian, not Justin. He’s from around here.”

And as far as Craig was concerned that was the truth. Deran knew Adrian was adopted and had lived somewhere east but his boyfriend didn’t like to talk about it.

The chick looked doubtful but she just pursed her lips in response. “Oh. Well, thanks, I guess.”

She finally left the bar and Deran turned his attention back to the lyrics on his phone. He didn’t want to listen to that singer but there was something he liked about the words.

Adrian was his sunshine. 

And wasn’t that just fucking sappy? But it was also true. 

His boyfriend made everything brighter.

He shoved his phone into his pocket and grabbed a cloth to wipe up Craig’s spills. He was already counting the time until Kai showed up so he could go home and bask in his sunshine’s rays.

-0-

Adrian was heading across the parking lot for his ancient Suburban when he caught sight of long blonde hair. There was something in the way the woman moved that reminded him of someone.

His feet stumbled and it took a moment to right himself as dizziness crested over him.

Mari was on the east coast the last he knew. He hadn’t talked to the Collingwoods in over three years because it was just too painful. 

Not just for him, but for them. When he’d met them, their son had died the year before and then Mari had…

It was best not to think about that time.

_These are two lovely girls, Justin._

He steadied himself against the roof of his vehicle. He hadn’t thought about Krug—or Justin—since the last time he talked to Mari’s parents.

Krug’s voice, insidious, wormed its way into his brain. _You missed out._

Bile climbed up his throat but Adrian pulled out a stick of cinnamon flavored Trident. 

The drive home, despite the kamikaze traffic, passed in a blur. 

When he stepped into the house he squawked in surprise; Deran had beat him home. He’d parked right next to his van but it hadn’t even registered.

“Hey, are you okay?” Deran was far sweeter and, what was the word? Solicitous. He was more solicitous than Adrian would’ve ever guessed despite the more than ten years of friendship.

Adrian shook off the bad memories. “Just tired, I guess. What are you doing home so early?”

Deran raised an eyebrow. “Are you complaining?” His tone was flirty instead of aggressive.

“Hell, no.” Adrian dropped his backpack and wrapped his arms around Deran’s broad back.

His boyfriend welcomed him home in a heart stopping manner. Lips, and hands, everywhere.

Jesus, he loved this guy. Loved his new life in Oceanside.

His memories of his previous life faded in the arms of Deran. 

This was the person he trusted most. 

The one he loved.

-0-

Deran jolted out of a deep sleep. He listened closely but nothing sounded out of the ordinary.

The refrigerator hummed noisily in the kitchen and he could hear the surf crashing the beach through the cracked open window.

Adrian twitched beside him, muttering softly.

Usually his boyfriend slept like a fucking baby while Deran tossed and turned. This wasn’t like him.

Deran knew Adrian needed sleep, the shadows beneath his eyes backed that up, so he slowly drew the man into his arms. He tried to sooth him with touch, rubbed his hand up and down Adrian’s exposed spine, but the stroking made his cock take notice.

He found himself humming and damned if it wasn’t that song from the previous morning. He’d listened to it maybe three times and now it was stuck in his head.

Instead of soothing Adrian, the guy shivered. And was that moisture on the side of Deran’s neck where Adrian had nestled his face? 

Deran stopped stroking and humming and that was apparently enough to wake up Adrian. He rolled away and sat up; Deran immediately missed the warmth and Adrian’s unique scent.

The scent of surf and sunshine.

Sunshine.

Adrian scrubbed at his face while Deran sat up, studying him. “Nightmare?”

His boyfriend shrugged. Neither one of them mentioned the tears.

Deran picked up his phone and checked the time; it was only 5:15 a.m. “You want to have a bite to eat, grab our boards and hit the beach?”

Adrian never passed up a chance to surf. Except, apparently, today. “I have an early class so I should probably head out early today. Maybe tomorrow? My first class isn’t until ten.”

Scratching his chin, Deran rolled with the change in plans. That was another thing he was learning since they’d moved in together; he had to be more flexible.

After a quick pitstop in the bathroom, Deran headed into the kitchen. He liked to make breakfast for Adrian. It was the most Smurf-like behavior he had and Adrian had pointed it out to him but he hadn’t given him shit about it. Adrian didn’t have a huge appetite, not for food at least, but he always ate whatever Deran put in front of him and usually enthusiastically.

Adrian joined him, damp from his shower. Today was the exception when it came to breakfast, too; Adrian pushed his scrambled eggs around his plate more than he ate them although he did eat his toast. 

Usually the talked about their plans for their day but breakfast was a mostly silent affair. Deran was sipping his coffee while Adrian did the dishes when he remembered the chick at the bar. “Hey, one of your fans was at the bar yesterday looking for you.”

Looking over his shoulder, Adrian barked a laugh. “Fuck you.” 

It was said with good humor and Deran was pleased with himself for bringing a smile to his boyfriend’s face. “Yeah, it was a blond chick and she thought you were some guy named Justin.”

Adrian had turned around, damp sponge in his hand to wipe down the kitchen island, so Deran had a direct line of sight on him.

The color washed out of his face like the tide pulling back and his knees seemed to wobble.

Deran was off of the stool in a shot, bolstering Adrian up with a hand beneath his elbow. Adrian allowed himself to be guided to the stool and that more than his pale skin and shaky knees concerned Deran the most; his boyfriend was so independent, rarely requested help from anyone, so when he submitted to Deran’s attentions in a non-sexual way it was, quite frankly, scary.

He got a glass of water and stood by patiently as Adrian sipped at it. When the water was gone, he took the glass back. “What happened?”

His patience could only hold for so long.

Adrian looked up at him and shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I stood up too quickly?”

That was bullshit. Adrian had already been standing up.

He knew Adrian was running on depleted resources and yesterday he’d looked a little shaky at The Drop although he’d seemed to recover quick enough.

Maybe he was coming down with something. “Maybe you ought to stay home today.”

Adrian pushed to his feet, crossed to the sink and put the sponge down. “Nah, I’m okay. In fact, I should get going. Thanks for breakfast.” He planted a kiss on Deran’s lips and then headed toward the front door to collect his backpack.

That at least was more consistent with Adrian’s behavior. Deran suggested he take it easy and Adrian, despite needing to slow down, had to do the opposite.

It amused him that everyone who knew the couple thought Deran was the less easygoing, more contrary of the pair. He snorted; Adrian was headstrong and could be intractable just for the hell of it.

But still Adrian was the best fucking thing that had ever happened to him.

-0-

Adrian was trudging between McGill and Mandler Hall when he realized he was humming _that_ song.

He’d been pretty blindsided by the tune yesterday—it had tickled at his memory but he couldn’t quite place it—but now he realized where he knew it from.

It was the song his momma used to sing to him.

He stopped moving, his feet planted on the sidewalk, and the guy walking behind him smacked into him. Adrian offered an apology but the guy just shook his head, stepped around him, and moved onward.

Why did this keep happening to him? He loved his life; usually he was much better about pushing down the memories of the old one. The mind was a complex, and sometimes fragile, thing. Was it any wonder he was flirting with pursuing a BS in Psych? 

Adrian snorted; Deran called it BS for bullshit and Adrian couldn’t really argue with him too much. Some of his fellow students were completely full of bullshit.

But the course material fascinated Adrian.

He began moving toward Mandler again and a blond girl bounced off of him. He had a flash of pale blue eyes and long fine hair and that was enough to get the blood pulsing loudly in his ears as his heartrate kicked into high gear.

He didn’t know her.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw another blond walk by and he whirled around, tracking her movements. She scowled, flipping him off, mistakenly thinking he was, what, panting after her?

Despite the sunshine warmed air Adrian shivered.

He was a fucking mess.

Mari Collingwood was not on UCSD’s campus.

_You ready to be a man?_

_He was dragged over to the girl held down on the ground. He put up a token fight but he’d learned quickly that his dad would smack him, or worse, when he didn’t go with the flow. His dad held him down, pushing his hand onto Mari’s breast. Making him squeeze it._

His concentration shot, Adrian decided it was in everyone’s best interest for him to skip class and return home. 

What he needed right now was to spend time with Deran.

Deran would distract him. His boyfriend worked brutally long hours at The Drop and it was time Adrian did something nice for him.

He’d give it some thought on the way home. 

-0-

Deran’s arms were full of Adrian who seemed intent on getting them both off as quickly as possible.

“Uh,” he paused, panting, as Adrian nuzzled the spot behind Deran’s ear that both turned him into a puddle of goo and made his want to pound his dick up Adrian’s ass as hard as he could. “Not that I’m complaining, mmm, but what’s the rush?”

Adrian’s lips drifted downward, latching onto Deran’s right nipple. His teeth gently tugged at Deran’s flesh and yep, his brain went offline.

Someone pounded on the front door.

“Ignore it,” Adrian came up for air, grinning at Deran. “They’ll go away.”

The pounding did not go away.

In fact, it picked up both in tempo and strength.

It had to be one of his brothers. 

Setting Adrian away from him, reluctantly, Deran pulled a t-shirt on over his head. He didn’t need comments about red marks on his body or what he and Adrian got up to in their own home.

He flung the door open, scowling, and growled, “What?”

It wasn’t Craig. Or Pope. Or even J. 

It definitely wasn’t Smurf, not that she’d ever show her face around there, not after she’d tried to set up Adrian for a drug smuggling charge. 

Detective Pearce of Oceanside PD darkened his doorway, mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Mr. Cody.”

“What the fuck are you doing here? Did you stop by to harass me about Smurf?” Deran’s dick softened in the face of his visitor; nothing dampened his appetite like a visit from the fuzz. Especially the fuzz dedicated to taking down the Codys.

Pearce’s smile turned into a frown. “Actually, I’m here to see your better half. Is Mr. Dolan at home?”

When Deran had first seen Pearce’s mug staring at him, he’d been pissed. Now he was worried. What did the cop want with Adrian? It had better not be more of that smuggling bullshit.

Adrian came down the hallway, smoothing his clothing into place. He had that fresh-fucked look about him but Deran knew he was frustrated seeing as OPD’s finest had seen fit to interrupt them.

“Ah, Mr. Dolan, can I call you Adrian? Or should I call you Justin?” Deran’s mouth dropped open—that was the name that chick at The Drop had used—as he stared at Pearce.

Pearce pushed past Deran and he yelped, ready to tear the cop a new asshole, when he realized the guy was actually helping support Adrian’s weight. Deran shouldered him out of the way, guiding Adrian to the couch. 

This wasn’t good. 

“I’d like to ask you a few questions. Maybe in private?” Pearce remained a respectful distance away, focus shifting between Adrian and him.

Adrian latched onto Deran’s forearm. “No. Don’t leave me.”

_As if Deran ever would._

Deran sank down next to his boyfriend but like a playground teeter-totter, Adrian sprung to his feet at the same time. He darted down the hallway and a door swung shut but it wasn’t enough to screen out the gagging noises that filtered into the living room. 

“Why are you here?” Deran leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, attention down the hallway although he looked toward Pearce. It wasn’t like Adrian needed him to hold his hair back while he vomited or anything like that but he wanted to be able to hear if Adrian needed him.

Pearce remained standing, either because Deran didn’t invite him to sit down which would never happen or because he wanted to make a quick getaway if needed. “The system is flagged so I’m contacted whenever there’s something Cody-adjacent going down.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Deran rose to his feet, needing to be on a level playing field, or in this case, just level. Having the cop hulking him over made him feel like he was at a disadvantage even if it wasn’t true.

The toilet flushed but the indelicate noises continued from that room.

Pearce crossed his arms but still managed to look relaxed. Fucker. The fucker finally started talking. “How much do you know about Adrian’s life before he came to Oceanside?” 

Deran mimicked Pearce’s body language, arms folded across his chest. It was grudging but he answered. “I know he’s adopted, asshole, but he never really talked about his first family.” 

“Uh, huh. Too busy concentrating on yours?” Pearce’s smirk was back in full force. 

Deran wanted to punch him just on principle but there was truth in what he’d said and it stung. “Fuck you.” 

“No thanks.” The cop reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and withdrew something; Deran tensed. It was just a cell phone. “But I do want you take a look at a picture and tell me if you recognize this person.” 

He glanced at the screen and did a double take. “Yeah, that’s the chick who was looking for Adrian at The Drop.”

“Her name is Mari Collingwood; that’s Mari with an ‘I’. If you see her hanging around do me, no, do Adrian a favor and call me.” Pearce slapped a business card down on the end table.

Deran glared at it until he heard Adrian coming down the hallway to rejoin them. His boyfriend ignored Pearce and murmured some sort of apology to Deran, but he waved it off. 

His boyfriend turned his attention back to the cop. “Why were you asking about Justin?”

Pearce straightened up, his face blanking so he looked more serious. “We have reason to believe Mari Collingwood is in Oceanside and that she’s stalking Justin Stillo.”

Adrian blanched but he stared resolutely back at the cop. “Why? I haven’t seen Mari in over ten years.”

“John and Emma Collingwood died in a car accident last month and it sounds like the girl has gone off the rails. Watch yourself and contact me if you see her.” Pearce didn’t stick around for the aftermath of his revelation.

Deran had no idea who the Collingwoods were but Adrian…he collapsed to his knees, head bowed, shivering.

He wanted answers and he wanted them the hell now—Adrian had brought the cops into their house and that was wrong on so many fronts—but he didn’t think he was going to get anywhere at the moment. Adrian wasn’t sobbing or wailing and punching things; no, he just quietly knelt on the floor, chest heaving.

Deran tipped Adrian’s chin up with his index finger and stared into pretty ocean colored eyes. Blank eyes.

He tugged Adrian to his feet and steered him into their bedroom, his boyfriend docile beneath his hands. It didn’t take long to strip off his jeans and t-shirt and then he was tumbling Adrian’s trembling body into the bed. After he tucked him beneath the comforter, Deran went to his secret stash and dug out a pill. The Ativan ought to help.

Adrian took the pill, and the glass of water, swallowing without complaint.

Now Deran was left with a waiting game.

Although he could probably find something out if he searched the internet for Mari-with-an-I Collingwood, Justin Stillo and looked for something about ten years back.

He grabbed his cell phone and settled on the bed next to Adrian who was breathing deeply and evenly despite shivers still racking his body.

Time to figure some shit out.

-0-

Adrian knew where he was when he woke up but he felt like someone was watching him. He sat upright with a gasp, wondering if Mari—

“Relax. It’s just me.” Deran sat on the bed right next to him. 

He looked toward the window and according to the weak sunlight filtering through a crack in the blinds, it had to be edging toward sunset.

Great. He’d slept the afternoon away and now Deran would be needing to go into The Drop. So much for taking care of his boyfriend.

“That’s some serious fucked up shit you lived through back in 2009. Is that scar on your stomach from then?” Deran sounded more curious than pissed. 

Adrian’s fingers rubbed lightly over the faded scar. He flinched when Deran’s warm fingers pushed his aside and traced the pink splotches.

This was a time he’d never wanted to talk about again but now that Deran knew something, he felt like he had to explain at least some of it.

His body relaxed into Deran’s touch; his boyfriend wouldn’t hurt him. At least not on purpose. 

Unlike Krug.

He could hear that voice, demanding but bewildered. _What are you doing?!_

His own voice had been high and he mentally cringed at his tough-guy response. _Ending this._

Adrian grabbed onto Deran’s hand, stilling its motion, squeezing it tight. “My biological dad was a real piece of work. Not smart like Smurf so he fucked up a lot. And when he fucked up, he got mean. Took it out on, well, everyone.”

Deran scowled although Adrian knew it wasn’t at him; his boyfriend’s attention was firmly fixed on the patch of skin that had been damaged. “He did this?”

He shuddered, remembering. _Well, you sure picked a hell of a time to grow some balls. Glad to see you too. Now, look. I'm not mad, alright? Just don't do anything stupid—_

Stupid, yeah, like pulling the trigger of the gun that was out of bullets. 

_My son. I loved you. I took care of you!_. At the time it had seemed true but as an adult he knew that wasn’t the case. Krug had done what Krug had wanted and it didn’t matter that he had a son depending on him.

He squeezed Deran’s hand tighter. “I stood up to him and he stabbed with a fire poker.”

“Jesus, no wonder you can’t stand the sight of ours. You should’ve said something.” Deran sounded outraged but he wasn’t pulling away, or berating Adrian, or anything except just being there for him. 

The final exchange with Krug—his sperm donor, not his father—had broken what was left of his heart. The Collingwoods really had been better parents to him and they’d supported him while he’d healed. And figured out what the hell to do with his life.

 _Loved?_. The pain from Krug’s words had hurt as much as the poker he ground into his side and his own voice had been weak with it.

 _You don't get to talk now!_. The pain in his side had been horrible but no worse than the hell he’d been living for the last twenty-four hours.

 _Fuck you!_. That was when he’d decided to always stand up for himself. He couldn’t count on anyone else to do it. Even the Collingwoods had let him down even though he understood Mari was too fragile to have him around.

Except for Deran; he protected Adrian as much as he let him and sometimes it was a fucking struggle not to let Deran do everything for him.

Deran’s cell phone rang; it sounded abnormally loud in the quiet of their room.

“Shit. It’s Kai. I’m late.” Deran stood up. “Will you come to work with me? I want you with me.”

Adrian rolled out of bed, pleased to find he felt steadier. 

Maybe it was because Deran knew the truth, or at least some of it, of his upbringing. Or the pill Deran had given him.

He wanted to stay close to Deran, too, at least for a little while. “Yeah. Let me throw some clothes on.”

-0-

Deran kept Adrian within his line of sight. The Drop wasn’t very busy but it was steady business which was good for the bottom line.

He’d almost said screw the bottom line and closed down for the night but having Adrian nearby helped with his paranoia. 

“What’s up with you tonight? You seem distracted.” Craig was on his usual bar stool—Deran ought to hang a sign on it with his brother’s name—and his brother looked over his shoulder, following Deran’s line of sight, to see Adrian talking to some surfer pals. “Oh, you keeping Adrian on a tight leash these days?”

Deran groaned. “It’s not like that. Remember that blond chick who came in the other day asking for Justin?”

Craig took a sip of his beer. “Yeah. Nice ass on her. I’d bang her.”

Of course, Craig would remember a person based on their bangability. “She’s a rape victim and she knew Adrian before he moved out her. The cops think she’s stalking him.” Deran had put the pieces together about this Mari. It wasn’t pretty. Adrian’s biological dad had killed her friend, raped and left her for dead, before ending up with her parents during a storm.

It was some totally fucked up shit. No wonder Adrian left that life behind him.

Taking another sip, Craig swiveled his head and choked on the beer. Once he’d cleared the liquid, he rose to his feet. “You mean that chick?”

Shit. Adrian was talking to _that_ chick.

He didn’t look upset or scared. He looked…happy? He smiled at her!

_What the fuck?!_

“Watch the bar for me, would you?” Deran flipped the hinged section of the bar up and darted through, almost colliding with his brother.

“Bout fucking time. I can do this.” Craig sounded more excited about tending bar than Adrian’s stalker problems. 

The blond disappeared into the hallway with the bathrooms just as Deran reached Adrian. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Talking to my friend.” Adrian swallowed the last of his beer—no, he shouldn’t be mixing alcohol with the Ativan but it was just one drink—and set the bottle down carefully.

Deran scowled but as usual it had no effect on Adrian; his boyfriend just stared back calmly. “You heard what that pig said. She’s stalking you.”

Adrian squeezed Deran’s shoulder. “I know you’re freaked out by all of this but please, you’ve got to trust me. She just wants to talk to me. I’m going to take her back to our place.”

When Adrian stepped back, Deran lunged and caught a forearm. “That’s insane.”

Adrian shook him off. “I don’t poke around in your business, I’m asking you to do the same. I just want to talk to her somewhere it’s quiet. I’ll come back afterwards.”

Deran’s lips flattened into a straight line, unimpressed with Adrian’s thinking. He opened his mouth to argue further but he heard a large crash from the bar area.

What the fuck was Craig doing? At this rate his brother was going to take down the whole bar. And Craig thought he could do this for a living. He turned to share the joke with Adrian but he was gone.

 _Fuck._. He’d been told to stay out of Adrian’s business but he didn’t trust this Mari chick. Even before he’d known of their shared past, he’d thought something had been off with her.

He didn’t want to do it but he dug into his pocket for the business card he’d scooped up on their way out of the house. 

Calling fucking Pearce…how the hell had things come to this?

-0-

Adrian let Mari into the house. “What’s going on? Why did you come to Oceanside?”

She’d found him at The Drop. Even though he’d expected to see her at some point, it still felt like he was seeing a ghost.

The ghost of his past. 

The past he’d been happy to leave behind.

“They’re dead. Everyone I love is dead. Except you.” Mari’s voice caught on a sob and Adrian pulled her into his arms.

“I heard. I’m so sorry. Your parents were wonderful people. Good and decent and they treated me better than, well, anyone.” Adrian was deeply sad the world had lost Emma and John Collingwood. They’d been better parents to him during that month he’d stayed with them, better than his own parents, and initially he’d been upset when they’d said they couldn’t keep him with them. That had faded as he’d been moved to the left coast and his memories of that time ( _my son is pathetic_ ) had faded along with his accent.

His head had been messed up for a variety of reasons. John had dealt with Krug Stillo—he refused to think of that man as his father—and Mari was struggling with what had happened to her. He’d felt guilty over the part he’d played in all of it.

 _These are two lovely girls, Justin._

Getting away had been the best thing for him. The Dolans had been less than perfect but they hadn’t really hassled him, at least until he’d come out as gay. The missus had saddled him with the name Adrian when he’d said he wanted something else and didn’t care what they called him but they’d given him a good sister in Jess.

His thoughts drifted back to his other life. Back when it had happened, it was like Mari had imprinted on Adrian…he’d almost thought of himself as Justin there for a moment but he’d left that name far behind him…and she’d started a slow slide into madness. Even with how far up his ass his head had been back then, he’d known Mari was fixated on him.

Wait. Mari had said everyone she loved was dead, except him.

Mari couldn’t possibly love him. Not after his association with her assault and the years they’d spent apart.

Adrian took a deep breath. “Mari, seriously, what’s going on here? Your life is on the east coast. The life that doesn’t involve me.” 

He found his arms full of the girl he’d known more than ten years ago. They’d bonded over the traumatic events but it had never been a healthy relationship. She also wasn’t a girl anymore. “Justin. Baby. I’ve always loved you. We were meant to be together.”

 _You missed out._

Setting Mari away from him, he stared down at her. “I’m not Justin any more. You don’t know me. You can’t possibly love me.”

Anger flashed across her face. For a moment she looked demented. Evil. A lot like Krug’s girlfriend, Sadie, had when she’d tried to brain him with the shower curtain rod.

Like Krug had as he’d driven the poker right through his—

“Don’t tell me how I feel. Everyone does that but you’re supposed to be different. It seems like ever since Ben died, all’s I’ve done is talk to people about how I feel. I’m done talking.” She snarled the words, her face crumpled up in disgust.

He knew she was mentally fragile. He even understood it.

Mari had lost her brother Ben, been attacked and raped, and now her parents—her rocks—were gone, too.

_Pick one. Or both._

And hadn’t he picked Mari? He hadn’t meant to but he’d felt a connection to her.

Her brother had just died and he’d missed his own mother, long dead…

But Adrian couldn’t be her new rock. He could barely keep himself anchored against everything life threw at him. Just seeing Mari left him reeling, the onslaught of feelings swamping over him like the surf crashing over the jetty.

_You keep your mouth shut, you hear me? Don't you fuck up again._

Wiping his suddenly damp palms against his thighs, Adrian moved through the living room, toward the kitchen.

He could hear Mari dogging his footsteps although she paused for a moment before the fire place.

Who the hell needed a fire place in Oceanside where the temperatures rarely dipped lower than the 40s? Deran, that’s who. His closet romantic.

Better Deran be a closet romantic than in the closet.

He snorted at the thought.

“What’s so fucking funny?” Mari sure had the snarl down. It was hard to believe the sweet, seemingly angelic girl he’d known was capable of such harsh language and tone. 

But wasn’t that point? He didn’t know her.

Maybe he should’ve listened to Deran; his boyfriend hadn’t been happy when he’d told him he was taking Mari back to their place to talk.

Adrian had told him to stay out of his business and Deran had clammed up, his lips pursed into a straight line. But he hadn’t stopped Adrian.

He couldn’t find any humor in the situation now. Adrian turned around, leaning against the kitchen island. “I was just thinking about…what the hell are you doing with that?”

Mari stood less than a foot away from him, holding the fire poker in one hand, resting it in the cradle of her other elbow. Like she was holding a baby.

Time slowed down around him as she shifted the poker, extending it, rubbing it against the side of his face. The black wrought iron was icy against his cheek. 

The front door burst open and Adrian jumped, the poker slicing into the skin on his cheekbone. 

“Freeze!”

Adrian recognized that voice.

Detective Pearce.

And Deran right behind him.

What the fuck? He’d told Deran to stay out of his business.

-0-

Deran crashed into the house, right on Pearce’s heels.

It had galled him to call the cop and ask for his help. Codys didn’t speak with the cops voluntarily. Ever.

But something was off with the blond chick and there really wasn’t anything Deran wouldn’t do for Adrian.

Including ignoring Adrian’s request to butt out. 

Pearce was snapping out instructions and it took Deran a moment to find Adrian who was pinned against the kitchen island, the black fire poker held against his face.

The damned poker that kept migrating to the closet and Deran kept pulling out to set in the stand with the tongs, broom and shovel, was pressed against Adrian’s cheek. The blackened finish highlighted Adrian’s pallor…and was that red smeared on his cheek?

That bitch cut Adrian!

Deran was supposed to keep his distance, his sole role letting Pearce into the house, but he found himself practically breathing down the back of the cop’s neck. 

Pearce put his hand out to keep him back.

Mari bared her teeth at them both.

Adrian…there was a mixture of disappointment and despair in the set of his face. When he turned damp eyes toward Deran, he just about knocked Pearce over to get to Adrian.

Mari pulled something out of her pocket and jabbed Adrian in the side with it. A ‘Baby Glock’ also known as the Glock 26. 

This crazy bitch was pointing a Glock at the guy he loved and Deran just about lost his shit.

Pearce wasn’t happy about it either. The cop’s gun—a Beretta 92FS—was pointed right at the blond.

Adrian hunched his shoulders and shrunk into himself and Mari practically cooed at him. “Don’t worry, Justin, I’m going to take care of you. You can trust me.” She turned toward Adrian and reached out. 

Deran thought he read Mari’s intentions, that she was trying to comfort Adrian, but Pearce interpreted her movements as a threat. It could’ve been the fire poker in one hand or the Glock clutched in the other…

The Beretta barked in his hand and Deran cringed as red sprayed over Adrian’s skin. 

Adrian, the fucking idiot, grabbed Mari and lowered her to the floor instead of getting out of the way. The gun and poker both clattered to the tile and Pearce kicked the Glock away.

“No, no, no, no.” Adrian was hunched over Mari, trying to stem the flow of blood. 

Mari’s eyes stared up into Adrian’s face and she whispered something and then Deran recognized the look on her face: Surprise. 

Surprise that Adrian was holding her?

Surprise that she was bleeding out?

Adrian’s face shuttered, emotions locked beneath blankness, and that told Deran all he needed to know; Mari was gone.

Pearce took control of the scene and soon other cops were pouring into their house.

Adrian was guided away from the bloody blond by two cops who shepherded him toward the open door. As he passed Deran, his feet shuffled to a stop. “Why? I asked you to leave it alone. Why couldn’t you trust me?” 

The blood smeared over Adrian’s face, hands and clothing felt like an answer.

Deran stared at the blood pooling on the kitchen tile; more proof. 

It could easily have been Adrian laid out on the floor, bullet in his body, bleeding out. So close. 

Too fucking close.

When he looked back up to muster some sort of answer Adrian was gone. What could he say? He wasn’t sorry that he’d brought help despite Adrian’s request to leave the situation alone.

But what if this drove Adrian away? 

-0-

Adrian sat in the interrogation room and waited to give his statement.

The cop who’d shown him in here had called it a meeting room but Adrian wasn’t a complete idiot; there was a rectangle mirror facing him and he was pretty sure someone was behind it, observing him. 

Pearce entered the room and normally Adrian’s metaphorical hackles would have raised but he was just so fucking exhausted.

A tremor ghosted down his spine and he raked his hand through his hair to calm himself. When that didn’t work, he folded his arms over his middle; it probably looked defensive but he was cold. They’d collected his blood-spattered clothing and given him a sweats and t-shirt, both bearing the Oceanside PD emblem and that irony wasn’t lost on him as he was the farthest thing from law enforcement possible with his checkered past.

He couldn’t work up the energy to be upset about his clothing. Nothing mattered at the moment.

_Justin, you gotta start putting other people's needs ahead of your own. You knew not to bring anybody back here, but you did it anyway, didn't you?_

He’d always felt responsible for dragging Mari and Paige into the orbit of his fucked up family. It was his fault he’d invited them back to the motel room. 

Now, with Mari and her parents dead, the last ties to his old life were gone.

He barely remembered his mom. She had died when he was young, probably at the hand of Krug.

_You guys weren't supposed to be here! Blah blah blah blah. But you did it. It can't be undone. Now you got to take responsibility for that action. It's as simple as that. You know how we do that?_

He couldn’t even think of Krug as his father. He’d dragged him out of the relative safety of a foster home after years of silence and tried to make him an accomplice to…his mind shuddered along with his body.

He didn’t want to think at all about Krug. That voice though…it kept hammering away at him. Picking at his hard-won self-esteem.

“Can I get you something? Coffee? A sweatshirt?” He jolted at the softly spoken words; he’d forgotten Pearce was in the room with him. That was stupid; he couldn’t let his attention wander like that when dealing with the cops.

Pearce was an adversary of the Codys so he really needed to pay attention. 

Adrian shook his head, refocusing. “Can I give my statement? I just want to get out of here.”

There was no smart-assed rejoinder or eyeroll or anything to indicate Pearce was going to be anything but professional. 

Adrian consented to be taped.

He answered Pearce’s questions.

He pretty much zoned out, answering by rote. So much for refocusing.

“That should do it. I can give you a ride to the bar so you can be with your friend.” Pearce was already on his feet.

Adrian had to use the table to lever himself up. The motion pulled the skin of his cheekbone and of all the things that snagged his attention, it was the stupid scratch throbbing. He wanted to touch the scab but doing that in front of Pearce would be a sign of weakness. 

His distrust of cops had started young and been solidified when he bounced between foster homes as a teen. The only institutional professional who had ever given a damn about him was John and…Adrian had to stop that line of thought.

“Adrian?” Pearce prompted him.

He stepped out the door and headed toward the exit. “No thanks.”

A hand touched his forearm and Adrian shrank away. Pearce put his hands up, the conciliatory gesture lost on Adrian in his current mood. Adrian appreciated the cop’s words even less. “She had drugs on her. Ketamine. Enough to bring an elephant down. I know you’re upset but she meant you harm. It’s a good thing your friend called me.”

“I’m upset about a lot of stuff. Mostly that she’d still be okay if you hadn’t shown up.”

If only Deran had trusted him. Why _had_ he gone to the cops? Codys didn’t do that.

Especially going to Pearce.

Nausea churned in his stomach; knowing that Mari had come armed was a bitter pill to swallow. 

But she’d needed help, not a bullet.

He’d thought he’d left that life—chaos, violence, powerlessness—behind but he’d been sucked right back into it. 

He couldn’t even blame Deran and his family for it this time.

Maybe it didn’t matter what he called himself or where he lived…maybe he was the common denominator for every shitty, horrible thing that happened no matter what he did.

He shivered again. He needed to get warm. He needed to leave the darkness behind him.

Like a heat seeking missile, Adrian headed for Deran. He was mad at him but he still wanted to be near him.

Still loved him.

-0-

It was so late the bar had already closed. Despite his misgivings Craig hadn’t left the place in rubble. Usually Deran liked being at The Drop but tonight that wasn’t the case. He wanted to go home but his home was currently a crime scene.

Never mind that he didn’t know if it was still his home. Without Adrian with him it would just be a place to crash.

He’d been truthful with himself about his feelings. Adrian was his sunshine, his rain, his everything. That pseudo country song grated on his ears but the lyrics…yeah, he got them. 

The side door creaked open and Deran turned to snarl at whoever was interrupting his solitude—The Drop was fucking closed, couldn’t they read the sign?—but the words died in his throat. “Adrian?”

His boyfriend hovered in the doorway, shoulders slouched, looking like he might bolt out of the door at any second. Deran didn’t want to chase him away so he turned his back while digging in the cooler for two cold bottles of Modelo Negra. He grabbed the beverage key and opened the bottles, setting one on the bar and taking a deep gulp of the one clutched in his hand.

Adrian inched closer to the bar. Deran wished he’d put more lights on so he could get a good look at him but he was left guessing. Was he mad? Sad? What?

“Are you staying here tonight?” Adrian’s voice was scratchy, like he’d been talking a lot.

Or crying. 

When Deran thought about that chick holding on gun on him…

Adrian picked up the bottle but he didn’t drink from it. 

“I, uh, yes. You and me. Together. Here.” Deran cursed himself for verbally stumbling like a caveman.

Usually Adrian would tease him. Instead he sidled up to the bar and sunk onto Craig’s bar stool. He plunked the bottle down in front of him. “Why did you do it? Why’d you call Pearce?” 

It didn’t sound like an accusation. Adrian sounded curious.

Also exhausted.

It had been a fucking long day.

Deran knew only the truth would suffice for Adrian. It was funny that he’d pretty much demanded it of Deran throughout their friendship but had been holding back himself. His name had been Justin? His dad had been a murderer?

For a moment anger thrummed through Deran. Who the hell was Adrian to judge his family? He took a deep breath, not wanting to blurt something out that he wouldn’t be able to take back.

Adrian had actually never made Deran feel bad about his family. He’d listened to him, giving either advice or just understanding. The only time he’d felt judged by Adrian was when he’d personally been hurting people. Like Dave.

Like Adrian.

He cleared his throat. “I was worried about you. Pearce knew more about the situation.” Deran leaned his forearms on the bar, making eye contact. “Adrian, I would’ve called anyone and everyone if it meant keeping you safe.”

Eyes downcast, Adrian’s fingers smoothed the top of the bar. “I wish you’d trusted me. I’m angry that you didn’t.” He took a deep breath, looking back up. “I’m also grateful. If you hadn’t…well, who knows what would’ve happened. But I can’t believe you asked Pearce of all people for help…you must’ve been really worried to do that.”

It had grated that he’d had to call his nemesis for help and Adrian acknowledging that soothed the irritation. Adrian got him and that’s why it was important that he made him understand just how fucking important he was to Deran. 

Deran moved first his bottle to the side and then Adrian’s before he caught Adrian’s hands in his own, squeezing lightly. “I can’t lose you, Adrian. I’ll do anything to protect you. Even deal with fucking Pearce.”

Adrian lunged across the bar, surprising Deran, planting a quick kiss on his lips with a smack. His cheeks looked rosy in the dim light, evidence of a blush. 

Except for the scratch across his cheekbone. Deran touched the skin around it very gently, trying to sooth it. “She could’ve really hurt you.” 

“It’s nothing. I’m okay. Except, you know, that Mari’s dead.” Adrian’s voice quivered.

Deran walked around the bar until he was standing in front of Adrian. Willing him to turn and make eye contact which he did, swiveling on the stool. He threaded a hand into the hair at the back of Adrian’s head. “I’m sorry it played out that way. I know she meant something to you and I’m sorry she tried to hurt you. Sorry she died like that.”

He couldn’t, however, be sorry she was dead. Not when she’d held a gun on Adrian. Not when she’d had Ketamine and ropes and who the fuck knows what she would’ve done if Pearce hadn’t believed him and gone to the house. Deran would’ve dealt with her himself but it would’ve been a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

Adrian took a sobbing breath and it just about broke Deran. He stepped between Adrian’s legs and pulled him into a hug. Adrian’s resistance lasted maybe two seconds before he draped his head over Deran’s shoulder and shuddered and sighed. 

Once his grief tapered off, Adrian whispered. “Thank you for caring enough to come to my rescue, even if your choice of cavalry was weird.”

“Adrian I’m not fucking around, I’d do anything for you. Without you…well, the bar, the house…none of it matters.” He eased Adrian away from him. “Just like the song said, you’re my sunshine.”

Adrian’s face crumpled and Deran swore at himself. Before he could apologize, Adrian waved it off. “My mama sang that to me. I’d forgotten about it. I’d forgotten about a lot of it. I had to bury that life to move on.”

“I want to know about your past. When you’re ready.” Deran swiped his thumbs beneath Adrian’s eyes, smudging the moisture leaking from his eyes. 

That brought out a lopsided smile. “Okay.” 

Deran gathered Adrian back into his arms. He wanted to know every detail of what had happened to Adrian before Deran had met him. 

Like how the hell did he go from Justin to Adrian? Not that his name mattered. Deran would love him even if his name was Groucho or some shit like that.

Patience was something he lacked when it came to this man but he was also fiercely protective enough not to want to bring up anything that was going to cause him hurt.

He’d bide his time. Be supportive.

And in the mean time he’d hang on to his personal piece of sunshine with everything he had.

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> Mari Collingwood from Last House on the Left is killed in this story; I actually liked her character in Last House on the Left and sacrificing her was solely a plot device. The same with her parents, John and Emma, who died off screen. Krug's history remained the same but I did mention Justin's mama who also sadly died when he was a child.
> 
> This satisfies the prompt for asking for help.
> 
> Why this song? I was in a grocery store and heard it playing overhead (you just never know what they're going to play--sometimes it's good and sometimes it's scary) and it seemed to fit.
> 
> I'll be posting five more stories before the end of the year...nothing like waiting until the last week to meet a deadline ;-)


End file.
